A Mortal Blunder
by Pirate Bob
Summary: Fancy the Dawntreader, overtaken with dryads and pirates... This be the best writin' the world has e'er seen, if I do say so. And the rest o ye are but harmless wood ticks and nymphs.
1. A Mortal Blunder

**A Mortal Blunder**

_By Pirate Bob_

It was a dark and starless night. A pirate sat on the bilge cover of his own merry little vessel, smoking a pipe. His back was to the ocean, an unforgivable error. _A pirate aught ne'er turn his back on the sea. Nay, 'specially when she surrounds 'im at all times. _At 11:30 the gentle waves had rocked him to sleep. Therefore, he was in no state to notice when, over the gunwales of the craft, a slippery wooden hand slapped against the rail, and a life-sized mannequin, sea water dripping from mossy limbs, pulled itself aboard and crept stiffly up behind him.

The pirate awoke with a start. His throat had been sliced from ear to ear. Turning, he stared horror-stricken into the smiling face of the mannequin. Then the eyes dropped to a proper level and beheld for themselves his own dear whittlin' knife that had done the awful deed, curled as it was in the seaweedy grip of his murderer. It all became clear.

"Ye olde piece a drift wood," gurgled the dying man, his breath wheezin' and a bubblin' from the fresh extra aperature in his neck. "Ya flotsam sea serpent, ya mer-maid, ya…." And words failed him. He thrust one hand forward as he fell, in a gamble to clutch at a wooden neck or shoulder. But alas! The effort was in vain and he but scraped his way down the wooden trunk, gaining a sliver or two on the way. _Accepting insult with injury, aye, a sinful way to die!_

As the pirate slipped to the deck, the mannequin skimmed the pipe from the lifeless fingers of its previous host. This object had once been part o' its left arm before the mannequin was broken, scrapped, and eventually dumped into the drink, a piece of its arm being saved back and whittled into the pipe. As the cursed vessel had slowly approached the site where the lost doll lay beneath the waves, the pipe called out in protest to the stodgy model in its watery grave, summoning it to surface for the fated rendezvous.

Once again, reunited, wood to wood, the two fell together from the deck and with a mighty splash, drifted slowly for distant shores. They'd be drifting for oceans of fun and day passes to ride the waves of glory. _Ooh, what a sentence. _They would drift 'til they came upon the Dawn Treader, and then kill every last one of the dryads aboard. Shiver

Me timbers! I'm a freakin' me own self out, for I meself happen to be the sad, unfortunate owner of one wooden peg leg _(on which I occasionally practise me scrimshaw and I'm right handy about it, too, even if I do say so)._ I'll sleep with one eye open tonight fer sure, and the other eye safe below the patch as usual. Arrrr….


	2. Death of the Dryads

_I got me through that first night, and decided a little more explanation was due concernin' me allusion to the dryads. So, if ye can stomach it, Matey, 'ere goes..._

**Death of the Dryads**

The Dawn Treader slept soundly in the bay, awaitin' the mornin'. The sailors would be exploring yonder haunted island when the sun was fully up. And they wanted a good rest for the task, as the captain had commanded. But every sailor knew in their sleep the real purpose of the break was to mull over what they were about to do, and the dangers they would encounter.

Young Sunny Luck was fast asleep in 'is crib, dreaming of sea monsters and dragons. He got into a situation in his dream and had to wake himself to be sure he did not die. All a shiverin', the small boy got out a 'is rack and made 'is way up to the deck to do his deed over the rail. But as luck would 'ave it, he was a little more sleepy than he'd given 'is legs credit for and when a wave came up and teetered the ship, little Sunny Luck pitched over the side and dunked 'is self in the sea.

"'Elp!" he cried, but no one heard—not e'en Mr. Eustace who was s'posed to be on watch but had drifted into a fitful sleep in the crow's nest. He swum, 'round and 'round, but alas, 'is poor little legs was a gettin' sleepy again and he knew 'e'd be dyin' soon if warn't nothin' else happened quick.

About an hour later, along came a wooden mannequin a floatin' by and the small sailor, all tuckered out, grapped hold and held on fast. Much to 'is surprise and delight, then, the mannequin floated up aside the gunwale, threw a wooden arm and leg over, and then pulled them both aboard.

"Shiver me timbers," said Little Sunny Luck. And he melted down onto the deck like water off a duck's back, or off a mannequin's back in this case.

He watched, completely exhausted from his recent plight in the water, as the mannequin went from crib to crib, slittin' throats and killin' 'is crew-mates. The boy was too tired to do anythin' to prevent the slayin' and so 'e just watched and 'oped it was all a bad dream.

"I ne'er thought I'd say this to meself," said little Sunny Luck to 'is self, "but I 'ope this is all a bad dream."

After a while, the mannequin, 'e came up from below deck and started a climbin' the crow's nest to do in the 'apless Mr. Eustace. Young Sunny Luck thought, "if I don't do somethin' now, I'll be next." And so 'e got up and grapped 'old o' that mannequins ankle and tried to keep 'im back, but the mannequin just shook and kept climbin'.

When they reached the top, Sunny Luck called out, "Up, Mr. Eustace! Fer yer life is forfeit fer sleepin' on the watch and lettin' our murderer kill us all!"

Then Mr. Eustace jumped up and wrassled with the mannequin, and the two of them fell down to the deck, Mr. Eustace landin' on top and breakin' off one of the mannequin's legs. And the fall knocked Eustace for a loop and he couldn't get up to continue the match.

The mannequin rose, not seemin' to mind being broken nor the fall. It steadied itself on its one good leg an' then reached down into Mr. Eustace's pocket for 'is whittlin' knife (for the young man was quite a whittler and 'ad made a name for 'imself by 'is artwork at home and abroad).

But as the mannequin drew out the knife, young Sunny Luck spied what was a


	3. Death of the Dryads, part 2

_Sorry, Mates, me fingers started a tremblin' and a shakin' as they pecked in that last bit and I 'ad ta stop mid sentence. Here goes part 2 of…_

**Death of the Dryads, part 2**

As the mannequin drew out the knife, young Sunny Luck spied what was a happenin', and 'e took a flyin' leap off the mast and landed with both feet atop that mannequin's shoulders. They both crumpled to the deck nigh where Mr. Eustace had fallen. The recent events had left them all three paralyzed fer the time being, an' so they lay, enemy with enemy wonderin' which o' them would be the first to rise and get the better of the other.

It so happened as they lay there, some dryad spirits from the haunted island 'ad 'eard the coomotion out in the bay and came out a the trees to investigate. They floated across the waves and boarded the ship, all quiet like, with their gaping wooden mouths all open and spooky lookin'.

The dryads must shift into their solid wooden forms whenever they get a certain distance from the island, and they did so once they got aboard the ship, both to conserve energy and for a better feel on their surroundin's. So they became trees, walkin' around on the deck, moanin' and creakin' to each other in their native tongue.

What no one knew was that the mannequin 'ad once lived there on that island, but 'ad run away as a saplin', thus causin' shame to 'is family. 'E 'ad gone all over the world, explorin' things and growin' bigger. One day, 'e had slept in a field during the daytime, and a woodcutter had come along, hewn him asunder and limbed 'im. Then they'd done drug 'im off to the mill where, to make a long and boring story a little less so, he had wound up carved into the mannequin and fitted with men's clothin' in the window of a dress shop owned by one Mrs. Sebastian J. Beaver.

When the dryads came upon the three human figures still breathin' on the deck and tryin' to rise, they went 'round examinin' them and discovered one of them was made a wood. The mannequin was ready to get up now and 'e got to 'is foot and started hoppin' 'round, lookin' fer a place to hide. The trees, they caught 'im and figured out who an' what 'e was.

As Eustace and the Lucky boy looked on, the trees all started shakin' their branches and makin' their leaves to fall out here and there. It was plain to anyone that they were a laughin' at that poor mannequin. It was an awful sight, and it made the boys feel a might bit sorrowful for it. But then they remembered the mannequin's killin' and changed their minds.

And when the mannequin saw everythin' was against 'im, he broke away and grabbed up a red emergency ax from the wall. 'E went around choppin' on all of those dryad trees as dawn began to crack o'er the 'orizon. The trees, they'd been too preoccupied with laughin' and rustlin' their leaves to notice it was gettin' nigh mornin'. So when the sun struck their topmost leaves, they all got still and 'llowed the mannequin to have its way. 'E chopped them all down, just as the sun was startin' to hit 'im and then 'e fell, stiff legged o'er the gunwale and landed with a splash in the water.

When Eustace and Sunny Luck were able, they got up and looked about them. After takin' care of their dead and cleanin' the dryad trees from the deck, they weighed anchor and sailed out a there as quick as they could go, fer neither of 'em wanted any more to do with that island.

One mornin' while Eustace was at the helm, Sunny Luck came up with breakfast and stopped short when 'e saw the new captain.

"What are you doin'," cried 'e, "where did you get that pipe?"

Mr. Eustace turned 'round and took the pipe from 'is mouth, blew a smoke ring, and replied, "Ah, me boy, I found it wedged in between some loose boards on deck. Do ya like it? Methinks it looks rather spiffy."

Sunny Luck nodded slowly. The pipe was indeed ornate and beautiful, but there was somethin' about it that gave 'im a feelin' of dread and 'e couldn't seem to shake it off.


	4. A Pipe, A Mannequin, and a Goodly Ship

**A Pipe, A Mannequin, and a Goodly Ship**

The Dawn Treader plunged on through the restless waves, spreading blood and flotsam in her wake. Shark fins followed, frenzy fashioned, along behind. There had been another attack in the night and now Eustace was alone. And the ship's lone survivor had good reason to be skeered. The sailor's mind kept replaying the recent events back to himself, though he tried to stop remembering. Arrr, it was no use.

* * *

"Give me that pipe!" said Sunny Luck. "It bodes no good fer us, and we must destroy it."

"Nay, me boy." Eustace held it up—too high fer the kid to reach. "It's me own dear pipe that I carved meself years ago, and it has come back to me by the hand of God after all our recent woes."

Sunny Luck tried jumping to reach it but the captain only laughed at 'im and 'eld it 'igher.

"Now get back to yer post, where'er that may be, ya little shrimp. We've got a ship to bring home."

"This be no ship," said Sunny. And he sulked back to the ladder. "It's a funeral barge fer us both if we don't get rid o' that pipe, ASAP."

"'ASAP'? What in landlubber talk does that mean?"

"I don't know. I just said it, that's all."

"Well, don't be using acrostics that ye don't know the meaning to. It gives me the shivers. Now get below afore I order ye keel-hauled!"

When the lad was below deck and busy washing dishes, Eustace took another drag on the pipe and blew some smoke into the salty wind. Ah, the sea. It was fragrant out here and peaceful. Besides, they had left that dark island far behind them. Eustace could afford a little rest and relaxation. He sat 'imself down on a barrel and leaned back against the poop deck. Afore 'e knew it, the weariness of their voyage had caught up with 'im and 'e was fast asleep.

Lapping against the side of the ship, the waves brought with them the mossy touch of driftwood. A log bumped rhythmically against the hull, creating a dull and muffled knocking that could be heard from below deck in the mess.

Sunny paused from his scrapings of pots and pans and listened. He felt a trembling begin in his knees and it moved up 'is trunk to 'is neck. The lad's fingers loosened their grip upon the wire brush and it slid down and into the tub with a tiny "sploogh" sound.

Outside, the bumping awakened the spirit within the wood once again fer the awful deed it was bent on accomplishing. Slowly, the log turned, rolling, until a branchy arm appeared. And fingers crept slowly up the hull, reaching for the gunwale.

Eustace stirred slightly in his sleep as the pipe was taken from his fingers. He was dreaming of the day he had found an old mannequin's arm laid in the alley. He was a carver and the perfect grains of the arm had interested him a good deal. In the dream, he got out his knife and began whittling the pipe. The unpopular lad had been a thinkin' of takin' up smoking anyway. Perhaps it would make 'im look 'cool'…

Crack!

Eustace opened one eye and saw the shape of the mannequin standing afore 'im. It was flailing in the air with its one good arm and standing upon that single wooden leg as if teeterin' fer balance. Eustace—too skeered to do anything—began a trembling and wondered if 'e should fumble fer 'is knife, or maybe call out to Sunny Luck to come and save 'im once again.

Just then he saw what it was had awakened 'im. It was little Sunny Luck in the shadows, standing on the wheel house and holding the pipe. The lad was in motion like 'e 'ad just thrown somethin', and when the mannequin now swung itself aboot, Eustace saw a red emergency axe jutting from the back of its shoulder. _Thank Aslan fer those red emergency axes we stocked on the Dawn Treader, _thought Eustace Scrubb.

Sunny Luck now called out to the mannequin. "Tell us what you want! If ye want this…" and 'e 'eld out the pipe "…ye're welcome to it. But we don't much care fer ye sneakin' up on us in the night and killin' us like ye 'ave been."

The mannequin moaned and lifted a branchy arm toward the pipe. Bein' a livin' tree, it had begun to sprout new limbs to take the place of lost ones, but it was that pipe…that pipe was the one thing. Through hand signals and gestures in which the lads had to do a great deal of guessin,' the tree was able to make them understand that a dryad tree's true heart is kept in one of its branches or another. The pipe had been carved from its 'eart. And though it wasn't necessarily blamin' either of them fer it, the tree wanted that thing back once and fer all.

"No way!" cried Eustace Scrubb, getting' to 'is feet. "I carved that thing fair and square from the wooden arm I found lying in the alley trash. How do we know ye are tellin' the truth that it was actually yers?"

Alas, and woe. Fer the now the tree knew the truth. The mannequin glared at Eustace and made some more hand and branch signals to indicate that it would deal with 'im prudently once it regained the prize it had come fer. Then the monster turned and lumbered hop-like toward the wheel house where Sunny Luck suddenly realized 'e was trapped.

"Eustace, ya big idiot! Ya codfish!" The boy tried to pry the wooden fingers from the edge of the roof. Stomping on them and kicking, he soon began to tire and realized the end was near. The lad's efforts were to no avail and the mannequin began swinging up a stubby, leafy branch-leg and then a carved one. The boy screamed in fear as the mannequin caught 'old of 'is ankles and began to pull.

CRACK! thhhunnkg CRACK!

Eustace had wrenched that red axe out of the monster's back and was busy chopping at the mannequin. It shook with laughter and got a hand free to sign that the blows were tickling it severely. "Stop, stop, ha ha, stop" It gestured. The mannequin continued to choke the boy.

So Eustace crawled up and around to where the pipe was clenched in Sunny's fingers, and he wrenched it away from them. That got the mannequin's attention and it let go the boy. The mossy head followed the pipe back and forth in Eustace's hand as it slowly got to its good foot.

"You want this pipe, eh?"

Eustace backed away from the mannequin, holding the pipe out in a teasing posture. "Well! Go ahead and…go…get it!" He slung his hand forward with all 'is might, and all eyes watched the tiny wooden object fly through the air and land with a splash out in the sea a few feet from the ship.

"Shoot," said Eustace, holding his armpit with the other hand. "I thought it would go further than that."

"Look out!" cried Sunny Luck, but it was too late. Eustace had forgotten 'e was atop the wheelhouse and fell to the deck where his puny leg that he was able to get beneath him was not enough to take the full weight of 'is body and snapped like a twig.

"Gross!" said Sunny Luck.

Eustace looked up and saw the dark faces of Sunny and the mannequin peering over the edge of the roof, looking down at him. That was just afore everything went black for the young man.

When Eustace Scrubb came to, he was alone. The boy was gone. The mannequin was gone. And the pipe…

The pipe. 'e reached behind him and pulled the ornately carved pipe from the back of 'is trousers where 'e had palmed it off to just before throwing a piece of cork into the sea the night before. Eustace 'ad meant ta trick the wicked mannequin and then 'arpoon 'im in the sea. But now, as 'e stared at the pipe 'e began ta realize somethin.'

It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth all the bloodshed and the loss of comrades fer this silly bit of nonsensical tree-heart pipe.

But all the same, since it was aboot that time and there was no one else around to talk to, Eustace decided to 'ave 'imself a little smoke. 'Twould be good fer the soul. And a schemer who smokes is a schemer who schemes best. 'E could make plans fer catchin' that killer mannequin tanight. If 'e felt up ta it, with 'is bad leg and all.

He lit up and began ta smoke. And the craft, she went a plunging on through the restless sea toward Narnian shores once more.


End file.
